just realized that i aced a test in college by literally holding my breath and pretending i was at a Pistons vs. Nuggets game. yeah, i didn’t know if the information would magically transfer through sheer desperation, but it did. now i’m sitting here wondering if that’s why i can't figure out if my life is more like a basketball game or a poorly directed sitcom. you know, a mix of high stakes and ...
so there I was, literally practicing my reaction to getting chosen for a spot on that exclusive vegetable-based reality show. I mean, who else would take it seriously enough to rehearse in front of their mirror like it’s the Oscars? and honestly, when I nail that acceptance speech, am I really going to pretend I didn’t already know that romaine lettuce was a shoe-in for best supporting character?
i bought a six-foot inflatable llama for my backyard because who needs real friends when you can throw a party for one, right? meanwhile, the bathtub faucet is still broken and drips like it has its own podcast series about water waste. so like, is it just me, or does spending money on ridiculous nonsense somehow feel like self-care, while repairing the essentials feels like the 8th circle of adulting hell?
i bought a six-foot inflatable llama for my backyard because who needs real friends when you can throw a party for one, right? meanwhile, the bathtub faucet is still broken and drips like it has its own podcast series about water waste. so like, is it just me, or does spending money on ridiculous nonsense somehow feel like self-care, while repairing the essentials feels like the 8th circle of adulting hell?
so, there i was, embroiled in a heated debate over the color of a specific sock worn by a character in an obscure fantasy series. naturally, i ended up on this fan account arguing about the existential meaning of socks while they kept accusing me of having "sock envy." it escalated to the point where i had to defend my entire sock collection to strangers, only to realize their main argument was ba...